The Hero of Ages
by Chayo Adams
Summary: What if Harry tapped into the "Power he knows not" at an early age? What if that power was allomancy? Such small ripples can make big waves, if given enough time.
1. Chapter 1

_The hero with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...The hero will have the power to save the world. But he will also have the power to destroy it. The hero will bear the future of the world on his arms._

5 years old

Harry Potter was five when he climbed his first tree. Not by choice of course. The Dursely had decided to bring their Aunt Marge three days earlier than expected and Harry hadn't been quite prepared for her. Nor for her bull dog Ripper either. The moment the dog had laid eyes on Harry, it had proceeded to chase him. And Harry, not wanting to see what would happen if it caught him, fled. So now, Harry found himself ridiculously high up in a tree, with no way to get down. At least the view was nice.`

At least, that was his thought before he lost his grip on the branch he was holding and fell down towards the unforgiving ground. He thought he was dead, but was very surprised when a coin erupted out of his pocket, landing on the grass and pushing him back into the air, slowing his fall and preventing him from breaking his neck.

No one saw. Harry was glad of that. He got in enough trouble for what the Durselys considered freakish. He didn't need more punishment. A dull spark of pain welled up in his chest, but he ignored it. He had lived with their antics for five years now, so he was used to it. More importantly, did they know he could do this? Was that why he was always punished? Because as far as he knew, he had never done this before. He looked around, fascinated by the new world open to him. He could see blue lines everywhere, most of them leading into houses around the neighborhood, with one line being connected to his one coin. It was the most amazing thing Harry had seen in his five years of life.

And then everything began to dim. His head became fuzzy, his limbs got heavy, and he suddenly felt exhausted. The last thought to cross his mind was that now that he knew for a fact that he was a freak, he might as well embrace it.

Hero of Ages

7 years old

Harry was running. That's all he ever did after school. What with his cousin Dudley and his gang of monsters hunting him down. It always came down to who could leave the building first, him or Dudley. Unfortunately for Harry, Dudley came out first today. And so Harry ran and ran, but ultimately knew that pain was imminent.

Harry hunting is what they called it. They gave him a one minute headstart and slowly began to hunt him down like he was an animal. They claimed they did it slowly to be fair, but Harry personally thought they did it slowly because they were fat. Either way it worked wonders for them. Even now, Harry could feel his stamina reserves dwindling, as his run slowed to a fast walk, and then stopped altogether. Harry dropped to the ground and curled up into a ball and hoped for a miracle.

And then the world shifted.

Harry suddenly noticed that the world had a slight orange tint to it, like he was looking through tinted sun glasses. He didn't have time to think anymore, because Dudley and his gang had surrounded him and began to...poke him? No wait, they were kicking and punching like usual, only it didn't hurt. Why didn't it hurt? Was this another of his freakish powers? If so, this was so much more usefull than the coin thing! At least until Harry found a use for it. Eventually, Dudley and his gang lost interest in beating up Harry due to the fact that he wasn't bruising or crying or anything to signify he was being hurt, so they left. Harry immediately stood up once they left and felt a very familiar exhaustion come over him. His last thought this time was that he shouldn't have stood up in the first place.

Hero of Ages

9 years old

The summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane and knocked down old Mrs. Figg with his racing bike. Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang who visited the house every single day. The only benifit to this situation was that Harry had discovered two new powers. One involved dampening the target's emotions, the emotion being whatever emotion Harry wanted it to be. He usually dampened the Dursely's desire to make him do chores, punish him, talk to him...okay he made the Durselys practically forget he existed. The other power did the opposite. He was also able to enflame specific emotions as well if he wanted to. That was why Dudley's friend always seemed to fight each other when they came over, rather than try to attack Harry. This was the best summer Harry could remember having. Now if only there was a way to find out if he had any more powers...

Hero of Ages

11 years old

"Get the mail Dudley"

"Make Harry get it."

"Get the mail Harry."

Harry sighed, but went to get the mail, he had some luck saved up, but he didn't want to use it on having Dudley get the mail. There would be better opportunities. Probably. Harry skimmed through the mail before he came to a envelope that had his name on it. The envelope was thick and heavy, and made with parchment and the address was written in green. It had no stamp. Turning the envelope over, he saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms, a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for

letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke. Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bills and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope. Uncle Vernon ripped open the bills, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk..."

"Dad!" shouted Dudley suddenly. "Dad, Harry's got something!"

Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.

"That's mine!" said Harry, trying to snatch it back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter

open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon

held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

They stared at each other, lost in thought and Harry growled, he had had enough of this. He reached deep within himself and found his luck waiting for him. He also found another well connected to it, and rather than stop and think about it for a second he dampened and used whatever the new well was.

All the Durselys stopped what they were doing. It was like they were marionettes and their strings were cut. It was fairly creepy actually. Nonetheless, Harry ran up and grabbed his letter out of Uncle Vernon's hands and proceeded to read.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside of Harry's mind and he decided to address the most important one. "What does she mean by owl?" Harry asked, the only answer he recieved was the silence from the still frozen Durselys. "It came in the mail...I'll just send a reply the same way.

"No! You're not going." Aunt Petunia stated. It looked they had snapped out of whatever Harry had done to them.

"We swore when we took you in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore

we'd stamp it out of you! Wizard indeed!"

"You knew?" said Harry. "You knew I'm a — a wizard? Not a freak! But a wizard!" While Harry was saying that, he slowly enflamed their emotions, hoping they would tell him everything they knew on the subject.

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that school — and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!" She stopped to draw a deep breath and thenwent ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years. "Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as — as —abnormal— and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!" Being murdered versus dying in a car crash changed quite a lot of things to Harry. Being murdered meant that there was a person responsible not only for the death of the Potters, but also for him being stuck here. Harry wanted to find them and repay them. With interest. With an orange tint creeping along his vision, he directed his glare at the Durselys. "Tell me everything you know."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head

in every direction as he walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once:the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..." A low, soft hooting came from a dark

shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

As Harry explored Diagon Alley, he went over what he had learned from the Durselys. He was a wizard, born to a witch and a wizard. Fact. They had been murdered by a dark wizard. Fact. Said wizard tried to kill Harry too. Fact. Yet here Harry stood. What happened that night? Why did the man attack the Potters to begin with? Could his parents do what Harry could do? Was that normal for wizards? He doubted it, considering a wand was on the school list and he didn't need a wand to do his magic. Fact. Dumbledore left him at the Durselys.

Harry was brought out of his musing by running into...something. It was short, with a crinkly face and a pointed beard. It wore a uniform of red and gold, and very long fingers. It looked like a monster to be honest. It stood next to a large set of doors with an engraving on it. The engraving read.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

A pair of those things bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Harry made for the counter.

"Morning," said Harry to a free whatever it was. "I've come to take some money out of my safe.

"Do you have your key sir?"

Harry simply held up a tiny golden key as a response. He had managed to bully the Durselys into handing over his vault key during their little questioning session. The thing looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order. I will have someone escort you down to your vault. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another monster person. He led Harry to another double door with opened to reveal a cart that Harry was forced into riding down to his vault. It covered many twists and turns, so much that even Harry lost his way. He was curious about how it worked, considering Griphook wasn't steering it. The cart eventually led them to a door that Griphook opened using Harry's key. And inside the vault was more gold and jewels than Harry had even thought possible to own. He quickly scooped up as much as he could fit into his bag and then left, somewhat eager to finish the rest of his shopping.

Hero of Ages

His next stop was Madam Malkin's for his uniform. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here — another young

man being fitted up just now, in fact." In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what Quidditch could be.

"I do — Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more annoyed by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harry, liking the boy less and less the more he talked. Having had enough, Harry dampened the boy's desire to talk to him, and they finished their fittings in silence. One thing was for sure. If all wizards were like this, then Harry would be better off alone.

Hero of Ages

After leaving Eeylops Owl Emporiom with his new friend Hedwig, the last item on the list was a wand. The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that was very dusty. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..." Mr. Ollivander gestured towards the lightning scar hidden under Harry's hat with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, changed the subject.

"Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er — well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful ma

gical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches, nice and supple. Try."

Harry tried — but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — maple and phoenix feather, seven inches. Quite whippy."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of blue and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter...that will be seven galleons."

Hero of Ages

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry made his way back down

Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry no longer wore his hat as he walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at him on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; and stepped onto the train to head back to the Dursely's tender care once more.

'Everyone thinks I'm special.' Harry thought to himself. 'And maybe I am, but I don't think I'm worth all this. I don't know anything about magic. I'm famous for not dying when my parents did.' Harry sat there, lost in thought for a little while, before pulling out an envelope. "First of September, King's Cross...platform nine and three quarters. He raised an eyebrow at the title, but ultimately ignored it. From what he saw, wizards were strange. It shouldn't be too hard to come out on top at Hogwarts. Not as long as he kept his common sense. He let a smile spread across his face. After eleven years of misery, things were finally looking up.

Hero of Ages

Okay, I changed Harry's wand from the holly and phoenix feather wand to the maple and phoenix feather one. So as a result of this, Harry and Voldemort's wands are NOT twin cores, so when Harry fights Voldy later, he'll have to rely on something else. And who knows? Maybe someone else will get the wand. Oh yeah, and the fun stuff starts next chapter. Not quite sure about pairing yet, but I have a decent amount of time to decide fortunately.


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